Another Person's Reality
by Average Exception
Summary: When the missiles are fired from America, the world is thrown into chaos. When a group of countries receives a special invitation, they will learn what it means to be useless. Rating changed for language.
1. Prologue

He knew that something was wrong.

He had felt a strange sensation run through his body, as if someone was watching him. He couldn't shake away this feeling, even when he stepped out of the subway and continued his way home. Which was strange because the people around him walked by without giving him a second glance. To them, he was just one more body in the flow of human traffic.

Of course, there were less people out because it was already late into the night; another long day of work that seemed to have no end in sight. He didn't mind it, though, since it really was his responsibility to take care his country, his people. A small sacrifice in order for the continuation of his existence. Besides, he was already in front of his house, getting ready to walk through the front door.

But still, he knew something was wrong.

He took slow, deliberate steps into his home, a place that should have brought comfort and peace, not caution and wariness. Releasing his breath, he flicked his finger over the switch and allowed the light to chase away the darkness in the foyer. His eyes took in the surroundings, searching for anything out of the ordinary. But everything was where he had left it. No signs of disturbance.

Silently chiding himself, he closed the door behind him and continued into the living room where he collapsed onto the couch. This time, staying within the darkness because turning on the lights was too much effort. With one hand, he took off his glasses and placed them on the coffee table while he rubbed his eyes with the other. Maybe the stress of dealing with his troubled economy was finally getting to him, making him jump at imaginary threats. When was the last time he could sleep without feeling crushed with anxiety, uncertainty of the future? The discomfort of his people? Sometimes it was bearable. Other times he tossed and turned on the bed, clutching his heart.

Except this feeling was different, and he knew something was wrong.

He could not ignore this feeling, not after…He moved his hand away from his eyes to glare into the dark. Memories that easily consumed his mind at the slightest trigger. Excruciating pain, unbearable heat, agonizing deaths. Unrelenting hours of fighting against death. Countless days of guilt for letting his people down. Never forget…maybe forgive…but never forget.

Taking a deep breath, he did his best to regain control and push down his anger. If he recalled correctly, he had a premonition before that day, too. An uneasiness that weighed heavy on his heart, an unexplainable tension. Back then, he couldn't figure out why he felt that way and decided to keep quiet about it. Until it was too late to do anything but endure the attack with useless screams.

So this time, too, he knew something was wrong.

He put on his glasses again and lifted himself up, removing his suit jacket in the process. Next, he fiddled with his tie until he could get it off his neck. He missed the days when he could get away with his military uniform and bomber jacket. Much harder to move around in this stiff apparel. Social conventions of the human society never ceased to confuse him. Make it simpler and just let everyone wear T-shirts and jeans, even in governmental buildings. Even in front of his boss.

Smiling at the very idea of standing in front of the president with only casual clothes on, he carelessly threw the tie on top of the jacket. He rested back on the couch, shifting around until his shoulder holster did not bother him. Another thing he learned was that a firearm was his friend. No such thing as being overcautious when holding a status such as his. Besides, it was better than constantly having bodyguards following him around. When he was finally comfortable, he scanned the room.

And found a figure in front of him.

Years of conflict gave him the lightning reflexes. Just as signals from the optic nerves reached his brain, the click of the safety switch resounded in the silence. He remained on the couch, only his arm extended out in front with the end of the handgun trained on the figure's head. The figure kept still, unmoving even with the prospect of a firing gun. He strained to make out more than an outline. Slowly, he recognized that the figure was tall, dark suit covering a medium build. But the face remained shrouded.

"Who are you and how the fuck did you get into my house?"

A low chuckle. Definitely male. "Your reaction time is commendable. Though I expected nothing less from the United States of America."

The previous feeling morphed into a bestial instinct that told him to proceed with care. An empty dread began gnawing his heart. But neither his face nor his voice betrayed anything.

"Answer my questions asshole."

"Now now, isn't it rude to use such language in the first meeting?"

"It's also rude to break and enter someone's house without permission."

No answer. America waited a few seconds longer before leaping from the couch and sprinting to the other side of the room. Without turning his back on the figure, he reached behind and felt his fingers brush against the wall switch. The room became illuminated, the previous shadows fleeing to wherever they could hide. His eyes adjusted to the sudden onslaught of light.

And found his gun pointing at thin air.

Eyes grew wide as this information registered. A prickling sensation at the back of his neck. Without thinking further, America whipped the hand with the gun and felt the impact of a hit. But instead of the figure's face, a hand gripped his own.

Emitting a growl, America slammed his foot into the other's knee, causing the figure to buckle. But instead of falling to the ground, the figured flipped backwards and increased the distance between them.

Before America could get a good look at the face, he noticed a glint in the air and tilted his neck to the right, avoiding the knife that flew past. However, he felt a sharp sting as the blade nicked his cheek, apparently enough to draw blood because he felt the liquid roll down his skin. He lifted his gun again and fired.

Only to watch the bullet hit the wall. And to feel his sensory nerves explode with multiple signals:

Back of his head being gripped. Feet leaving the ground. Body colliding with the surrounding furniture.

Breathless.

White light clouding his vision. Muffled auditory. Loss of control.

Enemy standing in front.

The gun roared, the bullet successfully reaching the figure's chest. America grounded his feet, refusing to lose his balance. He could feel his blood run down his other arm. But it was so worth it to see the crimson blossom forming around the figure's wound. He took the time to look closer at the figure.

Instead, he saw a palm coming at his face.

"Sweet dreams, America."

Too fast.

He felt his skull connect with the ground before the sickening sound of splintering wood reached his ears. His own hand shot up blindly and managed to grab the other's neck. But his systems started to shut down, his consciousness slipping away due to the combination of a concussion and lack of air. His hand moved down to the other's wrist but it was to no avail. Darkness took over once again, robbing him of all his senses.

He knew something was wrong.

But he could do nothing to change his fate.


	2. Chapter 1

"Sorry for making you wait. I'm almost with the paperwork, so give me a few more minutes."

He looked up from the book in his hand to stare at the other man. An apologetic grin was aimed in his direction, a hint of embarrassment mixed in those emerald eyes. Frankly, he wasn't surprised; when he arrived at the office, he had been greeted with unconcealed surprise that changed to shame after a sudden recollection. Needless to say, his promise to visit within a week had been forgotten, though he was correctly identified this time by the flustered man. Shifting his glasses, he ignored the white polar bear nudging his arm.

"Don't worry about me, England. I know you've been busy lately, so go ahead and finish. I have time."

England nodded before plunging back into his work. It was never easy, facing the stack of documents every time he entered this room. Still, as a nation, it was something that had to be done, a task that was expected from each of them. So he continued to shift through the papers, reading about the current statuses of the most impending issues, the populace's opinions of the said circumstances, and possible solutions given by the "experts." As he processed the expected amount of information, he could not help but silently berate himself for forgetting about the younger nation.

He threw a quick, surreptitious glance at Canada, who had returned to his book while absentmindedly scratching the back of Kumajirou's ear. The bear responded by purring softly and resting his head on his owner's lap. Remorse weighed down on England as he remembered how he was startled out of his chair when Canada had been introduced by his secretary, how he failed to hide the fact that he had been completely caught off guard. Of course, he did not admit that the visit had fallen out of his memory, but both nations knew that it was painfully obvious. So he resolved to draw his entire focus to his work, leaving behind an awkward silence in the room. A silence that he knew he had to break at some point.

"How have you been since the last meeting?"

"Getting along the best I can. A few hassles and annoyances, but nothing I can't handle. After all, everybody else is dealing with troubles, so I'm not an exception."

"It's good to know that you're persevering. I can't say that it's been easy for me either."

"I can see that from the monstrous pile. I give you my sympathies."

England scoffed, staring at the document in his hands. "I'd say that this is one of those 'annoyances,' not worth your wait. Let me wrap this up so we can go somewhere to eat. Do you have any place in mind?"

Canada shook his head. "I'll let you decide, since you're familiar with the area."

"I think I know a place that might be suitable to your taste." He threw the papers onto the desk and stretched his arms, feeling the tightened muscles pop after remaining in the same position for too long. "Well, I'm ready to leave. What about you?"

"I've been ready for the past four hours."

England could not help but wince, even though the statement held no malice. With a sheepish laugh, he proceeded to put on his coat while Canada noticed that Kumajirou had fallen asleep.

"If you want, you can leave him here. I have to come back before they lock this place up."

He could see the doubt in Canada's eyes. Understandable, since the nation never traveled without his pet, even going so far as bringing him to the world meetings. So England had to admit that he was slightly surprised when the soft-spoken nation agreed to his suggestion. With a final pat to the furry head, Canada left the sleeping animal and exited the room with England. It was not until they had entered the elevator that another conversation initiated.

"How's your idiotic brother? Has he given you any trouble?"

"Surprisingly, he hasn't caused any problems for me lately. I think he's too busy with his own affairs to be concerned with anything else."

England recalled how America had complained about the current state of his government, how constant division between the two political parties was preventing any attempts to address the issues at hand. He had mentioned it only once, but it was clear that he was under much stress. He shook his head, pitying the young nation, and stepped out of the elevator.

"So he hasn't visited you?"

"Actually, I don't think I've seen him for a while now. He hasn't contacted me either…"

"He's probably spending his free time with those _wonderful_ hamburgers he's so fond of."

Before Canada could agree, their attention was drawn to a man who had burst through the entrance of the building. Disheveled and breathless, panicking eyes showed recognition when they fell onto the two nations. Rushing forward, he quickly closed the distance and attempted to regain his composure before stating his business. After looking over the man, England realized that he had seen him in the intelligence department at the military headquarters. To see him in this state was not exactly encouraging.

"Deep breaths, Mark. Running around like this can't be good for your health."

"Sir, your immediate presence has been requested at Headquarters. An urgent matter has come up…"

"Serious enough to keep me away from a promised meeting?"

"International crisis, sir. I'll provide the details in the designated vehicle waiting for you outside. If you would be so kind as to follow me, we can leave right this second." The man turned towards Canada. "I'm afraid that you…"

"He's coming with us. End of discussion."

Without elaborating further, England headed for the door, his steps quick but controlled. The messenger simply shrugged and allowed Canada to go before following. A black Rolls Royce was idling in front of the building, the driver ready to leave at any given moment. As soon as the three entered the car, it raced down the streets at a frightening speed, disregarding the other vehicles that got in their way. England frowned with disapproval as they swerved through traffic a little too recklessly for his liking. The expression did not escape Mark's notice.

"My apologies, sir. But the immensity of the situation bypasses the breaking of a few traffic laws."

"Then would you mind explaining this situation instead of keeping us in the dark?" He watched as the man stared warily at Canada. "There is no reason to be suspicious of my guest."

"I suppose it won't make much difference anyway, sir." Mark sighed wearily, the adrenaline from the initial panic no longer having a profound effect on his nerves. "I have to warn you that the information I'm about to relay is very recent. Things might have changed in the time I spent coming to get you."

England's temper finally gave way, his eyes flaring with impatience. "Stop beating around the bush and give us the damn news!"

"Sir, our satellites have detected the movement, and the possible firing, of nuclear weapons."

Emerald eyes widened while Canada's face paled considerably. His prior anger forgotten, a sense of panic entered his voice. "Which country fired them? Iran? Pakistan? Russia?"

"None of them, sir."

"Then which one? Who was desperate enough to make such a rash decision?"

Any energy that was left in Mark completely disappeared. "Sir, the nuclear weapons have been activated by the U.S."

The revelation put both nations in such a shock that they failed to realize that the car lurched to a stop. Without another word, Mark helped them get out before motioning towards the building, leading the nations towards their destination. Down the halls, they passed a number of workers who were running in every direction, entering and leaving rooms, relaying messages. They were basically walking through chaos before they arrived at the operation room. Not that it was any calmer. When they walked through the doors, they were bombarded by frantic shouts coming from a large group of people, most likely crowding around the main computers, completely oblivious to their entrance.

Without hesitation, Mark went over and pulled the closest person away from the group. "What the bloody hell is going on?"

"We just got new information from the satellites. It looks like the bastards fired two missiles in two different directions."

England pushed Mark out of the way and grabbed the speaker's collar. "Where are they heading? What is their target?"

"We…we don't know yet. We're trying to predict the pathways, but we didn't have the time…"

He threw the man to the ground and pushed into the group until he could see the screens. He watched as the two lights moved across the digital map of America; one missile heading North-Northwest, the other heading South-Southwest. His eyes followed the movements, but his brain failed to register the information. Had America finally snapped? It couldn't been an act of terrorism. The weapons could only be fired when the command is given simultaneously at three different locations. A simple push of the button was not sufficient to launch a nuke. Yet, there were two of them, heading towards…hell, he had no idea where they were heading. He was suspicious about the one flying to the north, but he prayed that his prediction would be wrong. The one flying south, however, completely baffled him.

He felt a hand fall onto his shoulder and tighten. England looked up to see Canada staring intensely at the screens, fear and confusion present in those violet eyes. Despite the turmoil of emotions in his mind, England could not help but feel pity for the younger nation. A weapon capable of killing millions on the spot and poisoning the survivors was currently traveling across Canada's lands. The missile had been quick, already leaving the home ground in a matter of minutes. But the fear was most likely unneeded. There was no reason for America to attack his brother in such a matter.

England turned his attention back to the screens, and thus to the questions that continued to spin around his head. Was America aiming for Russia? The Cold War had definitely left a bitter aftertaste in the young nation's mouth, but did America hold such a large grudge that he would randomly attack his former enemy? Did he not realize that his decisions could ultimately destroy the Earth? Nothing made sense anymore. He could not think of a reasonable explanation. However, he knew that there was a possibility of another World War, along with the end of life as they knew it.

The grip on his shoulder tightened further, bringing him out of his thoughts and back to the room. A still silence hung over every person present as the lights finally stopped moving, indicating that they reached their destinations. England felt his mouth go dry, felt the cold sweat run down his body. The entire situation was unexpected, but what he was looking at now was too much. His brain became numb as his eyes registered the locations of the missiles, the places that would face the full destruction of the weapons.

One had stopped in the middle of Alaska.

One had stopped over Hawaii.


	3. Chapter 2

"Canada, slow down!"

England desperately attempted to pause the other nation, but his pleas fell onto deaf ears. As soon as the destinations were verified, Canada had demanded to be taken back to the office. No exceptions. The hurried pace did not slow even after the car ride, the younger nation refusing to adjust his speed. Leaving England out of breath as he tried to keep up.

"Look, you need to keep a cool head at a time like this. Rushing around recklessly won't help anyone."

He watched Canada turn abruptly and was taken back by the emotions roiling in those purple irises: anger, worry, fear.

"England, you should realize that those nuclear weapons were _passing_ over _my_ land. It doesn't matter that I wasn't the target. Those missiles were just too close for comfort."

"I'm not trying to downplay the severity of the situation. I just…"

With a weary sigh, Canada shook his head. "You're trying to help, and I understand. But right now I…I really need to go back…back to my country."

"What do you plan to do?"

"Well, first and foremost I'm going to check on my people. Alaska might have been the actual target, but you know as well as I do about the radiation."

How could he not know? The horrible aftereffect of those destructive weapons. It wasn't enough that everyone and everything in the immediate area are completely wiped out. No, those weapons emitted a wave of radioactive particles that bring merciless changes to the "lucky" survivors. Invisible poison that strikes without warning. Secret mutations that may manifest on the spot, or reveal themselves in subsequent generations. The effect on the population was devastating beyond words, but for a nation… England couldn't help but shudder as he recalled his visit to Japan after Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

"Are you feeling alright?

"I don't feel like throwing up my stomach. So far so good. But I still need to go back to know for sure." He paused with his hands on the door of the office. "Once I know my people's condition, I'm going to America for some answers. But before that, I'll make sure his face gets acquainted with my fist."

England gave a wry smile. "And you think you'll be faster than his reflexes?"

"From the looks of it, America will be too sick to see the punch coming."

He wasn't sure what frightened him more: the cold reality of the statement, or the fact that Canada could say such things in a stoic tone.

Reaching for the handle, Canada wasted no time in opening the door and rushing into the room. His eyes immediately focused on the sofa which, curiously enough, was empty. The bear he had left sleeping peacefully was no longer on the said furniture.

England watched as the younger nation began to look around the room. "Maybe he woke up and decided to take a walk?"

"No, Kumakiko wouldn't leave the room unless he knew where I was, especially since we're in a foreign country. He knows better than…"

His explanation came to a stop as both nations tried to understand the situation in front of them.

Back hunched. Fur bristling. Claws extended.

Kumajirou remained in the corner, his growls low and threatening. Dilated eyes were trained forward, eyes that did not register the nations as friends. A mixture of anger and fear. The white bear's normally calm demeanor was absent, almost as if he was prepared to lunge at the slightest provocation.

Canada approached with cautious steps and a soothing voice. "Kumakochi, what's wrong?"

In response, he got a fierce snarl and was shown a mouthful of razor sharp fangs. Still, the young nation drew closer.

"It's okay, buddy. I'm here, so everything will be okay."

"Canada, are you sure about this?"

"I trust him, England." He squatted and placed his hand gently on top of the bear's head. "And you trust me, right Kumajirou?"

It could have been the familiar voice, the soothing touch, or the fact that the right name was finally used. But whatever the reason, Kumajirou paused slightly before finally relaxing. Blinking his eyes, he looked up at the smiling nation and cocked his head to the side.

"Canada?"

"You actually remembered me this time? You must have been really upset."

Kumajirou shuddered before nuzzling into his owner's chest, indicating that some of the tension had dissipated. England released a sigh and shook his head. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that there was something wrong, that there was a change since he left the room. A small envelope was on his desk, placed on top of the documents he had thrown down before. As his brain registered this new development, he heard the bear's hitched whisper.

"A strange…man…came in a few minutes before you did."

"Did this man hurt you?"

"No, he just went to the desk. I think he left something. Then, he looked at me and…" Kumajirou continued to shift in Canada's arm until he was completely within the nation's embrace. "I don't like him. I don't like him."

"What…what did he do to you?"

"He…he was going to kill me. He was smiling, but it was scary. I don't like him."

Canada continued to murmur softly while stroking the still stiff fur as England went over to pick up the envelope. Long and manila colored, he opened it to find a small CD case. Normally, he would have used special precautions when dealing with unidentified items, but there simply wasn't time to go through the procedure. Instead, he stared at the unmarked CD inside the plastic casing.

"England, what's that?"

He shook his head, unable to answer, and sat down in front of his computer. With quick fingers, he brought it out of sleep mode and inserted the CD into his hard drive, which whirled to life as the machine read the stored data. A single file showed up, the extension indicating that it was a video.

Waving to get Canada's attention, England waited until the he came over with Kumajirou still in his grasp. With a deep breath, he double-clicked the file.

As soon as the window opened, they were met by a young man staring straight into the camera. Clean, navy suit along with a solid black tie. Untidy, short, dirty blonde hair. Fair skin tone. Purple irises, but eyes so dark that the color was barely noticeable. Overall, he seemed to be a typical human male. But they knew better. His smile, pleasant at the first glance, was too fake. As if he had on a mask. His eyes had an intense shine that suggested clarity. Or complete madness.

Kumajirou bristled instantly in Canada's arms. "I don't like him."

The man's smile widened, almost as if he could hear the bear. His arm gliding to his chest, he gave an elegant bow to his audience. Fluid. Graceful.

"Greetings, gentlemen. I do hope you will enjoy this performance, the show that is about to start."

He straightened, the smile never leaving his face.

"Ah, I understand that in your current states, you have no desire to waste time viewing this file, but I assure you that this is merely a preview. It should not take too long since the lead actor is not ready to come on stage."

England frowned, his irritation rising. From the first few minutes, he concluded that some fanatic advertiser was showcasing a client. He simply did not have the patience to deal with this, not when there were more significant matters at hand. With a sigh, he maneuvered his mouse towards the upper right corner of the window.

"Tsk tsk. I would not leave just yet, even if you are worried about a certain incident with certain weapons of mass destruction."

He froze at those words, his hand staying in place. He exchanged a glance with Canada before turning his full attention to the screen.

"Interested now? I must say that I am a bit surprised." The man tilted his head back as he ran a hand through his hair. A soft chuckle resonated, suggested that he was in a place with a high ceiling that gave good acoustics. Purple irises shifted until they were looking down at the camera. "A pity to know that it is so simple to manipulate the nations of this world."

He chuckled again before returning to his former position. "Oh, I can only imagine the possible expressions. Is it utter surprise or unbridled terror? Curiosity or fear? Most likely paranoid, suspicious…did I put you on guard?"

Another bow, this time in mockery. "But where are my manners? As an apology for my words, I will reveal this to you. I am not affiliated with a terrorist group or a cult. I do not have immediate plans of coming after your territories, so let your minds rest easy on that matter. Now, concerning the recent events, I am certain that you must be a little confused. You are asking why he did it. What were his motives? What is he going to do next?"

Hand placed on chin. "The only plausible explanation is that America finally went over the edge, becoming rash and suicidal. Such a shame, witnessing this in a _former_ superpower."

Eyes closed. Head shaking. "I know that you have been thinking this, too. America _used_ to be strong and prosperous. Full of potential. But all good things must come to an end. The country has been in a decline, yet somehow managed to cling to its outdated status while the rest of the world criticized, insulted, hated. So, what if a factor came along and gave America the small _push_ that will send him plummeting into certain death?"

Screams erupted from the speakers, interrupting the disturbing speech. The pain was audible, the agony present in every decibel of sound, in every second that passed by. Anyone who listened would not be able to avoid cringing at the clear desperation in the cracking voice. It also did not help that the screams seemed to be amplified by the walls. Eventually, the deafening cries diminished to choking coughs.

It had only lasted for a short time, but for England it felt that like an eternity. He had recognized the voice since the beginning. So had Canada, judging from his ashen face.

The man had waited until he decided that he could be heard before resuming. "It seems as if the missiles have hit the targets. Much quicker than expected. Oh, did I fail to mention that this was recorded before the nuclear weapons were fired? Silly me. I can be _so_ absentminded at times."

He was interrupted again, though this time with a different set of sounds. Gurgling. Splattering. This did not last long, either, and ended with broken sobs that nearly stopped England's heart.

Eyes with feigned pity looked over to the side. "Well, it seems the star of the show will be unable to make an appearance. But I know he will recuperate in time for the actual performance."

The ever present smile. England wanted to punch the man's face until it becomes unrecognizable.

"Next time, I will provide live streaming, so wait for me to send the necessary instructions. Until then." He gave a short wave, then seemed to change his mind. "Actually, before I cut the clip I'll let you have a sneak peek."

Without warning, the screen blurred before stopping in front of another man. Hands and feet restrained with metal bonds on a chair that was chained to the wall, thick ropes coiling over the upper body. Remnants of the previous distress covering his legs and the surrounding floor, though there was more bile than solid substances. Disheveled attire that suggested that the man was well-dressed at one point. Sweat-covered bangs hiding the face because his head was bent low.

But England's fear had been realized along with the identity of the restrained man…no, not a man, not a human. He knew who he was looking at even before he saw the familiar, rebellious strand of hair sticking out to the side. But as the nation raised his head to look at the camera, before his identity could be verified, the screen went black.

And remained that way for the remaining five minutes of the video.


	4. Chapter 3

**A/N: **Quick note about why I changed the rating. As I was typing up the chapter, I realized that the language I use might be a bit inappropriate for readers under the age of sixteen (then again, kids are exposed to vulgar language earlier and earlier each generation...). I thought about changing the words, but I firmly believe that they are relevant for the setting, and I will be using them again in later chapters. Also, I make references to alcohol in this chapter (remember, drinking age is twenty-one. And yes, I'm basing the whole drinking off of my own experience.) So, just to make sure nobody gets offended and flags my story (I doubt I get enough readers for that...but whatever), I'm changing the rating for safety precautions.

Tl;dr From here on, strong language and references to alcohol and sadistic psychos. No lemon, lime, etc. Enjoy~

* * *

The glass sat in front of him, filled to the brim with bronze liquid and ice. He had asked for the strongest drink in the bar, and after the first drink he had to give them credit. The liquor burned every time it went down his throat. How many glasses had he drunk so far? The surface around the glass wobbled in his vision, and he found himself shaking his head. A wasted attempt. He knew he had passed his limit long ago. None of those silly mixes for him. Tonight, he was drinking everything straight. Was going to feel the full effects of intoxication.

Grabbing the glass, he managed to bring the rim to his mouth without spilling a drop and downed the liquor in one gulp. Eyes watered. Throat burned. Alcohol entered his system once again. He slammed the empty drink back onto the counter, drawing a wary glance from the barkeeper.

With a resigned sigh, he closed his eyes. But immediately reopened them with a silent curse. No matter how many drinks he had, no matter how much of that poison was mixed into his bloodstream, the results were the same. The image of America's broken form constantly resurfaced in his mind. The sound of America's agonizing scream constantly reverberated in his ears.

Hands clenched with too much force. Nails digging into soft flesh. Muffled pain. A new stickiness forming in his grip.

And it did not help that he was alone.

"_Are you going to leave?"_

_The violet eyes that held absolute fatigue returned his gaze. Anger that was previously in control now replaced with worry._

"_England, you know as well as I do that I can't stay here. I'm going to check on my people, but I assure you that I'll go to my brother's capitol as fast as I can afterwards."_

_He nodded at the prudence, though it should have been expected. Canada may be overshadowed by his brother, but he had a tendency to keep a cool head during America's emergency situations._

"_It's not going to be easy to get to D.C. No doubt the American people will be upset by the incident. And most likely will be demonstrating their emotions through mass protests."_

_Canada's smile was tight. "What else is new?"_

_And after a brief handshake, the younger nation went his way, leaving him alone in the empty office._

Alone.

He sneered at the word. Why did it affect him to this extent? After all, hadn't he been proud of his "splendid isolation" in the past? He should be used to this by now. Hell, why was he so worried about that idiot anyway? America is strong. He'll manage to get out of this because he's a hero, and heroes always win in the end…

"What the fuck am I saying?"

He motioned to the barkeep, who hesitated for a second before sliding another glass down the bar. His hand reached out to stop the drink, but it was halted right before it came within his reach.

"Had too much to drink already, England? So rude of you to start without me."

He scoffed, recognizing the voice even in his drunken state. "Maybe y' should come faster th'n, stup'd Frenchie."

Glazed emeralds turned and glared at the fellow nation. Rival. Enemy. Ally. Such a paradoxical relationship that had continued to change over the course of history. He usually felt bitterness or annoyance when he saw that wavy blond hair and that stubble. But at the moment, France's presence brought a sort of relief.

Because it meant he was not alone.

_After Canada had left, he found himself falling on the sofa. Frankly, he didn't know what to do next. The workers at the Ministry of Defense had informed the Queen about the attack already, but they were unaware of the new development. It was his duty to report the CD as evidence, but what could the humans do? Tracking the source of the file would take time, which they clearly did not have. Besides, this was an international affair. Even if they somehow found the location of that maniac, they would have to contact the American government before any action is taken. _

_And in that time, the bastard can simply move to who knows where._

_He ran his hand over his face and sighed. It was too bewildering. Almost as if all of it was a dream. Well, more like a nightmare. In this confused state, he prayed that he would wake up and find the idiot laughing at him for falling asleep again during a meeting._

_Vibrations from his pocket brought him out of his thoughts. A strange sense of hope rose inside as he pulled out his mobile phone, hope that the caller was America telling him that everything was under control. It was a hope that was crushed as soon as he saw the caller I.D._

"_I am _not _in the mood for any of your usual antics, so this had better be good."_

"_Calm down, England. I was calling to make sure you're okay."_

"_And why would I be okay? Are you seriously unaware of what's going on, France?"_

"_If you're referring to the…incident involving America, then I'd have to say that the entire world is aware. However…" A few seconds of silence that nearly caused England to explode. "I wanted to see if you had any new information to share."_

_Frozen. Phone in hand. Loss for words. Was he and Canada the only ones to know about the psychopath? How was he supposed to explain that there was a possibility of a human, other than their bosses, who knew about their existence? Was it even probable that a human could kidnap a nation, let alone America? _

"_What do you mean by _new information_?"_

"_So, you didn't receive anything like a phone call? Or maybe a package?"_

_He stopped again as he felt an unrelenting cold grip his heart. "France, did you watch the video?"_

_A momentary pause made him fear that the other nation had hung up. But he eventually got a reply, though the voice trembled slightly. _

"_I did, England, I did."_

"_Who else saw it, France? Do you know of anyone else…"_

"_So far you're the only one I've talked to. I'm deciding whether I want to call the others, but…"_

"_But you don't know if they got the CD…"_

"_I don't want to spread unneeded panic, England. Everyone is confused already, and I'd rather avoid adding to it."_

_England bit his lower lip, wracking his brain for a solution. "I think it's safe to say that anybody who saw the video will contact me first, since I used to be America's guardian. Well, either me or you. So for now, we should keep this to ourselves."_

"_Are you sure?"_

"_Look, let's meet up. Maybe we can work together and decide what to do next."_

"You're_ suggesting that _we _work together? The world must finally be coming to an end."_

_He gritted his teeth in an attempt to keep his anger in check. "I'm warning you, France. Do _not_ push me."_

"_My apologies. Just a little dry humor…"_

"…_Same place?"_

"_Might as well. Unless you want to meet somewhere else?"_

"_I'll fly down there. Wait for me."_

"You managed to get here faster than I expected."

"They l't me on the f'rst available pl'ne. Y'know, sp'cial pr'vel'ge 'n all…"

"So you decided to drink yourself to death."

England hung his head and stared at his bleeding hand. "Why d' you care? J'st make f'n of me l'ke always…"

"What am I going to do with you? So old, yet you still act like a child." France sighed when he got a grunt in response. "Let's focus on the problem at hand. So far we can assume that some nutjob fired those weapons."

"'N k'dnapped 'merica…"

"We don't know that for sure. He could have been using someone similar."

England raised his head, eyes blazing at France's suggestion. Words no longer slurred. "France, you _heard_ his voice. You _saw_ him in that chair. You _know_ its him, so don't fucking say that it wasn't him in that video."

France swallowed thickly at the vehemence. "I'm sorry England."

"No, I'm sorry. I…" He covered his face with both hands, forgetting that blood was still seeping from one of them. "I just…I hate seeing him like that. It shouldn't happen. America's not supposed to get into such a situation."

"…England, give me your hand."

He didn't resist when France took his injured hand and began to wipe the blood with a napkin. Instead, England began to meditate over a new realization.

"France…"

"Yes, England?"

"Something's not right."

"Bear with the awkwardness. I'm almost done."

"Th't's not what I meant!" He took a deep breath to calm down and continued, ignoring the curious stares from the other people in the bar. "Before C'nada and I discovered the CD…"

"Canada? He was with you?"

"Yes, he was, but listen." England unconsciously lowered his voice. "Right before we watched the file, we found Kumajirou in a corner. Completely spooked. And he said that he saw the fucking bastard a few minutes before we returned to my office. But you got the CD too, which means he visited you. So…"

"…So how did he change locations in such a short amount of time?"

"Exactly."

"Well, we don't have clear evidence that he visited me per say…"

"How else would he deliver them? Through mail?"

"…England, I believe your coat pocket is vibrating."

"Hm…?"

France simply sighed again and removed the phone. With a raised eyebrow, he answered the call. "Hello? Yes, this is England's number. Ah, he's a little drunk, so he must've missed your previous calls. Anyway, how can I help you Germany?"

England stared with confusion at the talking nation. Confusion because he was rarely contacted by the beer-lover. But his heart filled with dread as he watched France's face fall.

"I see. It must have been very unexpected…Italy was present also? …Do you know if anyone else…oh, well, perhaps we should meet and talk face-to-face…yes, he saw it too, so of course he'll come…I'll call you back when he's sober, okay? …Good night, Germany."

England did not bother to look up when France closed the phone. "Him too?"

France merely nodded and reached for the drink he had prevented from getting to England before. The alcohol an unexpected temptation. Less than a fourth down, he sputtered and lowered the glass from his lips.

"My goodness, how do you drink this cheap liquor?"

"It's stronger and manlier than your sissy wine."

"And unsophisticated. How many have you had?"

"…I lost count."

"Then you're in no condition to make any decisions tonight. Come! Sleep at my place and we'll meet Germany in the morning."

"Me? Stay at your place? I want to be able to sleep without worrying about getting molested."

"Oh please. You're too drunk to be fun anyway."

"Horny bastard."

"Big brother only wants to spread the love."

"Keep your perverted _love_ to yourself."

Still, England allowed the other nation to pay the bill and guide him down the streets, since it would be impossible for him to find a decent hotel. For he had to admit that he had too much to drink. So, he followed France into the house, slowly losing the motivation to stay awake. He moved mechanically until he was finally allowed to collapse onto a bed. He was vaguely aware of being tucked in before the lights were turned off, but the calm atmosphere was enough to remove any resistance he had left. As he felt himself lose to sleep, he muttered under his alcohol-filled breath.

"Please be okay…America."

* * *

He remained in the shadows, watching the still form on the bed. Only when he heard the soft snores did he decide to move.

Gliding smoothly and stealthily. Avoiding any possibility of creating a sound. Stopping at the bedside.

Amethyst eyes stared down at the sleeping nation, the same eyes that had watched him as he was carried down the streets, brought into the room. He had heard the nation's final words before sleep claimed victory, and he could not help but chuckle.

"It really is surprising, the similarities. Then and now, you never change, do you?"

Reaching inside his coat jacket, he pulled out a single envelope and placed it on the night stand. Come morning, it would be the first object that catches England's eyes when he awakens. The words written on the front would be more than enough.

With a final chuckle, he went back into the shadows and disappeared as England shifted slightly under the sheets.


	5. Chapter 4

"England! Wake up!"

Pounding on the door brought him out of his sleep and increased the throbbing inside his head. Which also felt as if it had shrunken during the night, increasing the internal pressure. He groaned as another pang of pain traveled through his head and swore to never drink again. A vow he knew he would break eventually. But at the moment he only wished to quell his hangover.

Yes, he had been drinking again, and, based on the quick glance around the room, it had been with France. But why…

He burst out of the sheets, wincing slightly because his pain receptors flared from the sudden movement. Memories of the previous day flooded into his mind and cleared the initial grogginess. As the knocking continued, he wondered why France didn't just come in, since it was his home after all. Shaking his head, England noticed a white envelope on the nightstand.

Normally, he would have ignored any object that didn't belong to him. But the inscription on the envelope motivated him to grab it.

"_Concerning America…"_

He tore through the seal with haste and found a single paper folded inside.

"_Congratulations, Mr. England. You are one of the few nations who have been invited to this special viewing. It is an honor to know that you will be joining us. I hope you will enjoy the show, which will start at 9:00 GMT. At the bottom of this invitation, you will find a website address along with your user I.D. and password. As I mentioned before, only a small number was chosen, and this was the best option to keep out unwanted viewers. I apologize for any inconveniences."_

He blinked before rereading the letter, rereading the time.

9:00 GMT…

Cursing under his breath, he noticed his coat was draped over the end of the bed. Quickly crawling to it, he removed his cellphone and looked at the digital numbers.

8…59…

BST. Still an hour left…

His body relaxed slightly at this information, though the adrenaline continued to keep his heart racing. Too much excitement. Too early in the day.

"England, I swear if you don't open this door I'm going to break it down and make you pay for the damages!"

Brought back from his thoughts, he realized that France was still outside. He quickly got off the bed and unlocked the bedroom door. Which was strange, because he didn't remember locking it the night before.

"Took you long enough! I hope you have a wonderful hangover for the rest of the day!"

"Shut up! You try waking early after drinking 151 proof alcohol!"

"That explains a lot."

"Look, we don't have time to be arguing like this! I just found a letter on the nightstand…"

"…You mean like this?"

Emerald eyes widened as France pulled out an open envelope, the familiar inscription on the front. He felt his hand shake as he held onto his own envelope.

"You too, huh?"

"Yes, I found it on the kitchen table when I came out in the morning. You were still asleep so I made a couple calls…"

"And?"

"So far, I know that Germany, Italy, and Russia also got the…invitation. Canada won't pick up his phone, and I have yet to contact the countries in Asia…"

"Damn it! Why are we _invited_ while the rest of the world isn't? What is that bloody bastard planning?"

"I don't know, England. But I have a feeling we're not dealing with a normal human."

He snorted at the comment. "Of course! I thought I told you that yesterday?"

France shook his head. "Have you taken a look at the website address?"

"No…why?"

England reopened the paper and skimmed to the said part. His eyes went over the line once. Twice.

"France, it's just a random string of letters and numbers."

"My point exactly. It's not a regular web address. And there is no coherence in the ordering, no hints or clues."

"I've never seen this domain either…will this link even work?"

France motioned him to follow and led him into the study. The desktop was already on, but England only saw a black screen.

"Are you going to turn that on?"

"Ah, I had forgotten that I left it in this state."

Fingers quickly maneuvered over the keyboard and canceled the full-screen feature. The result was still a black screen, but there was a smaller window also present. In the middle of the rectangle, numbers counted down the remaining minutes before the appointed time.

"This is what came up when I typed in my I.D. and password. Nothing's changed, and I doubt that anything will happen until the indicated time on the paper."

"France, contact your security team and see if they can track the original computer."

Wavy locks swayed as the head shook. "Already did. But our little friend is one step ahead of us. Any uninvited users are blocked…"

"Even if they use your I.D.?"

"England, they can't even access the site. In fact, their browsers say that the site doesn't exist!"

"What, so he knows our IP addresses or something?"

"That's a possibility. Our hackers are trying to find a backdoor, but last I heard, they have yet to find the location of the code in the World Wide Web."

England let out a frustrated growl. "So we're just twiddling our thumbs now."

"Pretty much, unless you have any ideas."

"I've got nothing…damn, he sure knows how to make someone feel worthless. By the way, where did you put my bag?"

"Next to your bed. I'm surprised that you didn't notice it."

He left without a word and returned with a laptop in his hands. Swiftly finding an outlet, he hooked everything up and booted the machine, waited for the system to load. In the meantime, France managed to make another call.

"Well, it looks like Japan got the letter."

"Really…"

"It's too suspicious, England. So far, all the nations who got an I.D. are…"

"The members of the G8."

France blanched, though England remained focused on his laptop. "You knew?"

"I had a hunch. Something told me that the bastard was aiming for the wealthier nations."

"Then why not the G20 members?"

England shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe he doesn't like big crowds. Or maybe he thinks it's more elegant to have a small party."

"How can you speak so calmly?"

Desperate eyes turned to him, emeralds glistening in the light with unshed tears. "I have to stay calm, otherwise I…I might go crazy. I seriously thought about flying over and talking to his government. Of helping them find America. Of killing the bastard who's causing all this…" A shaky sigh. "I _have _ gone crazy, haven't I?"

"No, you're merely worried because you care about him." A surprisingly gentle hand falling on England's shoulders. "Just like I care about him."

"…Thanks, France."

"Try not to let the stress get to you too much."

"Yeah…Don't you dare mention this to anyone else."

"Oh I won't. Wouldn't want to ruin your reputation as a…ah, what did Japan call it? As a _tsundere_."

Resisting the urge to throw his wireless mouse at the smirking nation, England proceeded to enter his information into the website. "It's a little strange though. Why is my I.D. so simple? I mean, 'QS'?"

"Mine was 'KD,' but if we consider the possibility that he has our IP addresses, it'd be much easier for him to use concise names to identify us."

"And our passwords, he's making us use our human names? How much information about us does he have?"

"From the looks of it, he knows us very well. And we know very little about him."

At that moment, both screens showed the young man, once again in a cavern-like environment. And once again with a smile on his face. Time had passed without their warning, so they were initially startled by the sudden change on their computers. However, both regained their composure quickly. France went to his desk while England drew closer to his laptop.

"To both the old and the new viewers, I welcome you to this live streaming! It is good to know all of you could make it. I promise that the show will be a good one. Much better than the preview, for those who understand my reference."

He gave a quick wink, causing England to growl and France to frown.

"All of you are aware that nations can persevere through many trials, much more than the average human. But what about the spirit? Is there anything in the present world that can traumatize a nation in a short amount of time? Why don't we find out."

The man backed away from the camera, which was placed at an angle that allowed the viewers to see the entire area. It was not a large room, though there was a good amount of space between the walls. Lighting was dim, almost as if there was a single light in the entire room. A light that was shining primarily in one corner.

The chair was still there, chained to the earthy walls to prevent movement. America was still there. Still restrained. Head still hanging low. This time, though, he was wearing a grime-strained, sleeveless shirt and a pair of torn blue jeans. Apparently his captor had enough pity to change the soiled clothes from before.

Whether it was due to the lighting or from the previous attack, America's physical state looked worse than it did in the previous video. Sickly pale skin. Traces of discoloration on the right side of the body. Unnatural stillness. Unmoving, slack form.

The young man did not show concern. In fact, he walked over to the bound nation at a leisurely pace without looking back at the camera. Smiling the entire way. He stopped in front of America and playfully mussed the messy hair.

"Time to wake up! Now I know it's a little early, but I think you have slept long enough."

"Fuck you." The voice was rough, most likely hoarse from the screaming.

"Still unwilling to talk in a civilized manner?"

"You killed my people, destroyed my lands, and you want _me _to act properly with _you_?"

"You wound me, America. I told you that was an _accident_."

"Go kill yourself, you fucking son of a bitch!"

A coughing fit as a result of the raised voice.

"I warned you about getting excited in your condition. You never listen, do you?"

A head shake. Condescending. He moved off the screen, giving them an opportunity to see America. The nation was still coughing uncontrollably. Eyes shut against the onslaught. Tears streaming down haggard cheeks. Missing glasses, his treasure. It pained them to see him in such a state, even more so when they realized they couldn't help him.

The man returned with a bottle of water, which he offered with a smile. America started to reject, but was forced to take a drink when the coughs returned. Painful breaths traded for humiliation. Still, the man held the bottle until America was done, then carefully wiped the tears that were on the nations cheeks. And America could only growl the entire time.

When the man returned after placing the bottle somewhere behind the camera, he gave a small sigh. "Look at you. A former superpower. A powerful nation. Reduced to this. It must be true when they say nothing lasts forever."

"I was doing fine before you came into the picture."

"Oh please. Your government was split in half, refusing to cooperate, to work together for the people. Your economy was taking a hit…"

"My people were still _alive_, and I didn't have radioactive poisoning."

Smile turning smug. "They were weapons of your own creation, America. You should take responsibility for them."

"I _was _responsible. None of them were fired until you decided to interfere."

"Stubborn as always, I see."

"I think of it as 'holding onto my morals.' Better than being a homicidal bastard like you."

"It is exactly that attitude that brings the other nations to spite you, America. Hard-headed. Naïve. Your constant insistence of being a hero is annoying at best, hateful at worst. You interfere in other's business when you have no right. And as a result bring harm to both them and your own people."

"I was just trying to help…"

A mocking laugh. "_Help_? You bring down a nation's leader and completely turn over the established government. You bring war and death with your military. And for what? Freedom? Democracy? Are you sure that it is not for control? Personal gain?"

"You're wrong! I…"

"You believe that it will all work out in the end?"

Hand reaching out to grab America's chin, forcing eye contact. Amethyst against sapphire.

"You are a curious nation. Yes, there are idealists who believe that they are truly fighting for their country. For freedom in the world. Yet, there is also corruption that exists, hiding behind the mask of patriotism. Which is your true self? Or are you such a talented actor that you can play both roles?"

Shadow flitting across the blue eyes. Disappearing as quickly as it appeared. "I know I'm not perfect, but that shouldn't stop me from providing aid to those in need."

"And what if they do not desire to receive your help? You force your way in anyway. And everyone despises you for it."

Arms spread out. One step back.

"Do you realize how many people are waiting for you to fall? Do you understand how much hate is directed towards you? Enemies are waiting for you to collapse. Allies are hoping you will be taken down a notch. Both blame you for the current state of the world economy, at least to some extent. The nuclear attacks? They think you've finally lost it and are keeping their distance. Your people need help, but you have been abandoned! No one is willing to be your hero!"

Throughout the tirade, America's head continued to bend forward, as if the weight of the accusations were crushing him. There was some truth in the man's words, or at least it wasn't a complete fabrication. But the vehemence, the emotion, increased the strength of the charges.

So imagine their surprise when America lifted his head again, a small smile on his face.

"You done?

He straightened up in the chair and stared at the surprised man.

"I'll admit that I've made mistakes in the past. I'll also agree that many of the nations around the world are unhappy with me. But I can always make up for it. Sure, scars will remain, but wounds will be healed and relationships will be repaired. The other nations have made similar mistakes in the past, but they managed to move forward. So I don't see why I can't do the same."

Blink of surprise. But a quick return of the mask. "See, America. You haven't lost your manners. Do you now understand how pleasant it is to speak without profanity in every other sentence?"

"Don't push it. You're still a bastard."

"I have to admit that I am glad you did not break from that attempt. I was afraid that you would fall into despair when you realized that no one was looking to help you. It would have been too easy. Too boring."

"Yeah, so try harder."

Widened grin. Spark of interest. "Then prepare yourself, America. You are strong, but there is a flaw within you. In all of the nations."

He turned around, eyes staring up. "Technology has truly advanced in a very short amount of time. Today, over half the world relies on it to get through the day. Whether it be to travel, to work, to secure food. Technology and electricity are necessary for many people to survive. Do you agree?"

"Am I not supposed to? What's your point?"

"Imagine the consequences if technology was absent. If electricity stopped working. If all communication was non-existent. What would happen?"

Any color left was drained from America's face as the questions ran through his mind. A breathless whisper. "You can't do that."

"What if I can? A snap of my fingers is all it takes. Like this." Fingers sliding, producing a sound like a crack of thunder. "How many people are in your hospitals, America? How many people rely on machines to keep their frail existence in this pathetic world?"

Breaking of metal. Ripping of rope. Releasing of restrained. The man turned as hands wrapped around his neck, as he was pushed to the hard ground. A heavy thud echoed through the room as America's weight crushed onto the man's chest. Blood flowed from his wrists, his ankles, cuts that were formed when he broke from his binds. Some of the rope remained coiled around his body, part of it moving down his arms.

Pupils so dilated that there was no trace of blue. Cold. Black. Feral. Yet, also filled with terror. An animalistic snarl came out of America's mouth as he strengthened his hold on the neck. Tightening the respiratory tract. Causing a gasp to come out from the man.

"Change it back! Change everything back to normal! You're fucking killing them!"

A smile in response, angering the nation.

"You think it's funny that my people are dying? I'll fucking kill you!"

A faint reply. Lack of breath.

"How… many nuclear… power plants… does your… country… have?"

Amidst the rage, confusion also entered the expression, unable to understand the question.

America stopped suddenly, eyes wide, mouth open. His body remained still, though his grip must have weakened. The man coughed, bringing oxygen into his deprived lungs.

Without warning, America's body trembled as seizures took over, toppling him to the floor. Eyes rolling back. Mouth forming silent screams as the voice fled. Rest of the body out of control. He continued to shake before it ended as abruptly as it started. Leaving his body still once more.

After catching his breath, the man pushed himself up into a sitting position. Stared at the fallen nation. And burst into a maniacal laughter that bounced back and forth from the walls, ripping through both the computer and laptop speakers. An eerie sound that sent shivers down their spines. Inhumane. Insane. It eventually died down to small chuckles, the sound continually vibrating in the air as the man lifted America off the ground and placed him back in the chair.

There was no resistance, the body moving wherever it was taken. The normally bright, sapphire eyes were now dull. Void of recognition. Void of life. They stared off. Unseeing. Uncomprehending.

The man leaned over and spoke softly, though his words still reflected off the walls and into the camera's microphone.

"Do you feel your people dying? Do you hear their cries for salvation? Are you feeling the explosion of each reactor? Are you deteriorating along with the rest of your country?"

Silence was the reply. The nation unaware of everything but his own pain.

He never stopped smiling. Even when he closed America's eyes so it looked like he was asleep. Even when he went back to his viewers.

"There you have it. A terrifying weakness, no? Enough to bring down the great America. Oh, do not forget that the rest of you have the same weakness. That this could happen to any of you. Alas, the star has fallen asleep once more, so I believe we will skip to intermission."

Another bow. "Take a good rest, for when the show resumes all that is left will be the final act. As a special treat, I will hold a Q and A session at the very beginning. One question for each nation, so think hard! Until then."

Black screen. Ended stream.

After a few minutes, England got up from his seat and proceeded to destroy every piece of furniture in the room, while France did nothing but watch with dazed eyes.

* * *

**A/N: **For those who are curious, go to Wikipedia and search "Nuclear power in the United States." You'll find a map of the (active) plants, or operating reactors, that are currently in the U.S. I checked out the map on the official NRC website, and the map on Wiki was pretty much the same. Or at least enough to show the extent of damage that was done in this chapter...which also included the destruction of decommissioning reactors too...which aren't on the Wiki map...

On another note, 151 proof alcohol is flammable. And burns like the lakes of Hell when it goes down your throat.


	6. Chapter 5

**A/N: **Faced with the dilemma: make the chapter longer and release it later, or find a good stopping point halfway and release it earlier. I chose to do the latter. Enjoy~

* * *

"What happened to your hands?"

England raised eyes, red from lack of sleep, to look at the concerned nation. He then looked at his hands, which were heavily bandaged. And recalled the previous day.

"It's nothing, Italy. I just scraped my hands when I fell."

An obvious lie, but England wasn't in the mood to create a better excuse. Thankfully, Italy didn't question further and left the tired nation in peace. He watched Italy walk over to Germany before letting his eyes wander around the room. Most of the members of the G8 were present, though Canada and Japan had yet to arrive.

After the stream ended, France, the previous host of the group, had called for an emergency meeting in his country. Demanding that all members attend. Not that any of the members declined. Everyone knew the reason for the unplanned meeting. What had started as a suicidal attack had turned into a crisis of global scale. Each of them realized that they were dealing with a dangerous enemy. An enemy who was clearly powerful. Clearly insane. What made it worse was that they weren't sure how much power the man truly possessed. For all they knew, he could destroy every single nation in the world. And most likely with that creepy grin stretched wide on his face.

A soft knock sounded on the door, and all heads turned as Japan entered. "Good afternoon. I apologize for arriving so late."

France came forward and patted the smaller nation's back. "I should be the one apologizing for making you travel halfway around the world. Still, I'm glad you were able to come."

"How…how could I refuse when…" A momentary pause. Unable to finish. Instead, another burning question. "Were you able to communicate with the U.S. Government?"

Head shaking in hopelessness. "Nothing's going through, no matter how many times we've sent the transmission. We can't even get satellite image to survey the damages after…after the reactors exploded."

Japan nodded with understanding. He remembered Fukushima. How he had to endure the agony caused by the damaged nuclear plant. At the same time recovering from the devastating earthquake, from the death and destruction in his land. But that was a single plant, caused by a natural disaster. America had faced the meltdown of all of his plants, caused by a single human. But…

"America is strong. I have faith that he will recover from all this somehow."

"Well he certainly won't be able to get back up by himself." Both nations were startled by the sudden insertion from Russia, who was smiling at them. "He's certainly in a bind at the moment."

Narrowed eyes. "You seem too happy about the situation. A little suspicious, if you ask me."

"You're too paranoid, then. I never said I was enjoying America's pain."

"Your mannerism says otherwise. Are you sure you don't have a hand in all this?"

The smile dropped, almost as if a switch had turned off. A cold glint emitted from those violet eyes. "Rest assured. I am your ally, not an enemy. I have no connections to that man, and he is just as much an adversary to me as he is to you."

"Can we trust you? You who had clashed so strongly against America?"

"Oh France, every one of us has fought with everyone else at least once in our long history. You should know that. You who had controlled a majority of Europe at one point."

Air growing heavy. Tension rising. Adding to the already present stress. Every nation remained wary. On guard. Constantly analyzing the others' actions and statements. Perhaps it was the fact that they were facing a foe that seemed impossible to defeat. Or maybe they really were worried about America's safety, as crazy as it seems. But, no matter the reason, any confrontation would be unnecessary. Absolutely pointless.

England was the first to break the silence. "That's enough, France. The man already admitted that he has no affiliation with the nations in our world. He views everyone as inferior beings, so I doubt he would ask any of us for assistance. Hell, he even managed to stop technology and prevent communication from going in and out of America. All without help."

"You have a point…"

A brief nod before a sneer was aimed at Russia's direction. "Besides, the man is so out of his mind that Russia seems _sane_ in comparison."

"I shall take that as a compliment, comrade."

The door opened again, though this time there was no knock, no prior warning, to reveal the last member. All conversations ceased once more as they took in the appearance of the young nation.

Pale beyond description. Heavy bags under clouded eyes. Hair unkempt. In short, Canada looked horrible. It was shocking to see him so exhausted, looking as if he would collapse at any moment. France went over and guided him to a chair that Russia pulled out while the other nations crowded around him.

"Canada, are you feeling alright?"

"I'm fine, France. Just a little overwhelmed."

"You aren't nauseous? Dizzy?"

A shake confirming the negative.

"There…was no radioactivity in your country?"

"No." A thick swallow. Voice trembling slightly. "There weren't any traces, not even at my borders."

They stared at him, unable to hide the surprise etched on their faces. But Canada remained oblivious to their reaction. Staring at the floor. No attempt at making eyes contact.

"I have no idea what's happening in my brother's country. Phone calls don't go through. Any vehicle that crosses that border immediately breaks down. Nobody's willing to fly into America because the risks are too great." Raising of head. Watering of eyes. "I don't know what to do. I can't send anyone into the country because we still don't know how much radiation is present. But…I can't just abandon my brother's people. Not when they don't even know where he is…"

Fear for his brother's life. Concern for the suffering people. Frustration for being so useless. It was all too much to handle. And they could see he was breaking down in front of their eyes. It was a miracle that he had even made it to the meeting.

The nations tried their best to soothe him, eventually convincing him to get some air out in the terrace. Italy volunteered to join him, so they waited until both were outside before discussing the troubling news.

England crossed his arms and frowned in confusion. "Something's not right. How is it possible that the radiation is contained inside America?"

"Perhaps the reactors were too far from the borders?"

Russia shook his head at Germany. "There are plenty of reactors in his northern states. And as…the _incident_ of Chernobyl has shown us, the actual spread of radiation is far and destructive if it remains unchecked."

"Then is it another one of that man's power?"

Every nation remained silent after Japan's inquiry. At any other time, they would have dismissed such a suggestion. But they were dealing with someone who was capable of doing the impossible. Kidnapping America. Firing nukes without permission. Stopping technology and electricity. And, perhaps, even containing radiation within a specific area. Clearly, the word impossible was absent in the man's vocabulary, or at least extremely limited.

"But why has he targeted America? Does he have a grudge?"

"I'm not sure, Germany. I was actually confused when I watched the stream. The man seemed to show some affection towards America for one second, then contempt in the next."

"Are you suggesting a love-hate relationship, Japan?"

"Oh please. Don't use your way of thinking to describe that bastard, France."

"You never know, England. Maybe America rejected him as a lover without realizing that he was an invincible lunatic."

They all frowned, and Germany placed a sympathetic hand onto France's shoulder. "You never cease to amaze me with your lewdness."

"Hey, it's possible!"

"If you say so…"

His retort was cut short, as Canada returned, breathless, with Italy at his side. And a package in his hands. The other nations could only stare wordlessly, moving from Canada's face to his hands. As they all asked the same question. How the hell did the bastard get past the security, which was patrolling the entire perimeter of the building, and then some.

"We…found it…on the ground…near the outer corner." Breathing starting to steady. "But it wasn't there the first time we circled the terrace."

France quickly pulled out his phone and used the speed-dial to call the leader of the security team. When he finally got through, the anger was apparent in his voice.

"Were there any sightings of an intruder? …Are you sure that your men aren't incompetent? ...Look, a package just appeared on the terrace…I don't know how it got there…it's your job to find any suspicious individuals who come near this building…I don't want to hear your excuses. Stop wasting my time and find the man!"

He hung up and stuffed the device back into his pocket with more than the necessary force. He then turned to regard the package with the rest of the nations. It was a medium-sized box sealed with clear tape. Plain brown cardboard. Seemingly harmless. No one had a clue about the inner contents, though it was obvious who the sender was.

England made the first move by using a pen to tear through the tape. Germany responded by sharply grabbing his wrist, stopping him. Distrust shining in his eyes.

"Don't be so rash. What if it's a bomb?"

"I doubt it. The man's too _creative_ to use such a simple tactic. No doubt the bastard _wants_ us to see America suffer."

The pen snapped as England shoved his hand out Germany's grip and across the box. The tape tore down the middle. The sides giving way as he ripped opened the flaps with his bare hands. The box opening for the nations to see inside.

A black tablet, covered in bubble wrapped, remained buried in a mass of Styrofoam pellets. At first glance, there was nothing out of the ordinary. But when England removed it from the box and held it in the air, the nations realized that they had never seen the make before. No such model existed in any electronics company. Completely custom-made.

The aesthetics of the device was simple. A thin prism. Power button on one side. USB port on the opposite side. Opening for camera lens on the one of the longer edges of the screen.

While the other nations continued to study the tablet, Japan looked back into the box and noticed an envelope sitting at the bottom. With slow, controlled motion, he pulled the item out, the rest turning their eyes to watch as he opened it. He saw their eyes watching him, but didn't stop until the unfolded letter was in his hands. After a few seconds, Japan cleared his throat and read the contents aloud so all could hear.

"Well, it seems like the audience has come together in one location. Things just got much easier for me, which I am thankful since this _is_ the final act. And, you can discuss the performance amongst yourselves afterwards. Exchanging opinions, especially about the future, and all that good stuff."

"But I digress. It should be easier for you too. Simply turn on the tablet to start the video chat. If you want a larger screen, make sure to connect the USB _before_ pressing the power button. Oh, and no need to worry about using microphones. You will be able to hear us, and we will be able to hear you. No need to thank me for this extra feature. My only request is that you place the tablet so we can see all of you at once. We'll be waiting."

"Okay, we need to find a USB cord…" France raised an eyebrow when Japan pulled one out of his suit pocket. "I won't ask why you carry that around. Now, time to hook this thing up an meet our deranged host."

They managed to settle the tablet on top of plasma screen, stabilizing it so it would not wobble and fall off. With the USB connected, France pressed the power button, then joined his fellow nations around the table. Both devices whirled to life.

And it wasn't long before they were looking at that familiar smile.

The man was also sitting behind a table, staring straight at the nations. His smile widened, indicating that communication had been established. That the video chat was in progress. Hands appeared on the table and folded in front, as if he was ready for business.

America was also present, seated next to the man. But every nation could see that he was in no condition to be there. Deadly pale skin exemplified the bluish-black bags under closed eyes. Beads of sweat covered a creased forehead. Lips devoid of color, set in a tight grimace. Head resting on the back of the chair. Suggesting he was asleep. Or, more likely, dead. Even Canada looked healthy compared to America's state.

A low growl. "He'd better be alive…"

"My, my. So eager to begin are we, England? But since that sounded like a statement, I won't count it. Anyway, welcome to the Q and A session! As I mentioned before, each nation gets to ask one question, which I will answer to the _best_ of my abilities."

A growing smile. A mischievous glint in the eyes. "I'm feeling a little generous today, so I'll give a freebie. To answer England's not-question, yes, America's still alive. However, he's been moving in and out of consciousness. And as you can see, he is currently passed out. But don't worry, I'll bring him back once we conclude the session."

Silence hung in the air, no nation willing to ask what would happen _after_ the session.

"Then without further ado, the floor is now open! Don't be shy, but remember to be respectful when someone else is talking. We don't want to act like uncivilized brutes, do we?"

Anger rising, England bristled in his seat. But before he could give a biting remark, Japan initiated.

"I believe this is an appropriate question to start us off. Who are you? You have yet to give us any insight to your identity."

"Cool-headed as ever. Very impressive, Japan. That's actually a very vague question, but I understand your implications. It must've been difficult to refer to me as 'that man' or as 'that insane bastard.' Doesn't concern me too much, but I understand that it is rather inconvenient to everyone else…"

Purple irises suddenly cold. The mocking glint consumed by something darker. Expression turning sinister. More intense.

"My original identity is one that you do not need to know, since I discarded it long ago in the past. Even if you knew, there would be no difference. So, for the time being, you may call me 'Ace'."

Shocking as this change was, the nations were left completely speechless when the expression reverted in an instant. Ace was beaming back at them as if the previous animosity had never existed. Was it a slip of his mask? A mistake that briefly showed his true persona?

"Well, that was question number one."

Grin widening. Teeth flashing. Eyes sparking.

All hinting madness.

"Who's next?"


	7. Chapter 6

They weren't sure how to proceed, so none dared to ask another question rashly. A vast amount of information, yet restrained with limited access. The nations around the table realized that they needed to use good judgment when choosing their questions, when picking their words. For a vague question will only bring vague answers. At the same time, they didn't want to spend too much time trying to be economical.

Finally, Germany cleared his throat. "So…Ace…where is your current location?"

"Hm? The dim lighting, grainy walls, and constant echoes are not enough hints?" Ace chuckled when he saw the confusion on their faces. "I suppose I am being unreasonable, since you believe that all communication has been cut off here…What? Do I have to put it bluntly? I…_we_ are in Washington D.C., well, specifically we are _under _D.C."

"There must be some mistake."

"I am afraid not, Germany. The basement of the Pentagon is basically a catacomb. A maze with a countless number of rooms. A death trap for fools who enter ignorantly. I merely borrowed one of the empty rooms for the show."

"You're lying! How is this video chat taking place when every other attempt of communication failed?"

Smug smile. "No need to get so worked up, Canada. I thought you were tired of dealing with the arrogant, self-centered America. The one who overshadowed you. The one who treated you like a lackey. Are you not happy that you are freed from his stupidity?"

"I'm the only one who can say that about him, bastard."

Ace shrugged. "Who knew that blood was so thick? However, I speak the truth about our location, even if it seems impossible. Let's just say that it is within my power to enable and disable things as I see fit. Which means we can have this session while everyone else is missing out from the fun."

"Demented freak."

It was no longer a surprise that laughter was Ace's response. "Who wants to ask the fourth question? And yes, I counted Canada's as one."

Canada would have protested, but his brain was too busy processing the new information. Too busy trying to grasp the seemingly endless amount of Ace's abilities. What was truly terrifying was that nobody knew where these powers came from, though it seemed too supernatural, too unearthly.

But it was clear that Ace was keeping them in the dark.

Four questions left…

"Here's a question for you. Are you doing all this for your own benefit? Because it's hard to imagine someone of your caliber bending to another's will."

With a small frown, Ace locked eyes with Russia, who goaded him with a smile. They continued to stare each other down, completely ignoring the other nations. Until Ace seemed to break away from his thoughts.

"Another difficult question. I suppose I will admit that there are selfish motives on my part. But know this. Every single action. Every single decision. They are all for a higher being than me. I am merely a tool, a willing servant to my Master."

Purple eyes moving across the room. Frown turning into a sneer.

"I do not expect any of you to understand my motivations. You who work for your own interests. You who have too much pride to work under another's orders. Alliances? Partnerships? Do not make me laugh. Step on or get trampled. Eat or be eaten. This is the mentality of this world!"

He reached over and grabbed a fistful of America's hair. Slammed the head onto the table. Sound of splintering wood resounding at contact. Elongated cracks cutting through the wood. Not once did Ace look over, his blazing eyes fixed on the other nations.

"Can you say that you are honestly worried for America? Are you not more worried about yourselves? About what might happen if you are the next target? Do you not wonder what will happen to _yourselves_ if America falls?"

Accusations that hit too close for comfort. None could deny what he said, for deep down each nation had thought about those questions. Of course they had worried about their own countries, their own citizens, their own future. Facing such an enemy, no one at the table could admit truthfully that they were only concerned about America.

Ace left them brooding over his recent questions, and finally noticed the result of his outburst. Loosening his grip, he moved America's head back into its former position. A small cut had formed near the right eye, the blood leaving a thin trail as it traveled down the gaunt cheek. With a soft sigh, he pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket and began to clean the injury, which didn't take too long. The flow stopped as soon as he applied a bit of pressure, suggesting that America had little blood to spare.

Yet, even with the abuse, America remained in the sleep-like state. Oblivious to his surroundings.

With another sigh, Ace returned his attention to his audience. "My apologies for the uncontrolled display. I promise to use more care when I answer the remaining questions."

"Um…excuse me but…why are you only attacking America? What did he do to you?"

"That was two questions, Italy. But to make up for my deplorable actions, I will combine them as one."

Shifting into a more comfortable position. Folding of arms.

"America has not done anything to me. In fact, he did not know who I was until a month ago. So why did I choose him? Maybe it was a whim. Maybe it was due to his position as a superpower. Maybe I chose him because the world was unsatisfied with his conduct."

Sudden burst of laughter. "Oh, don't look at me like that, Italy. I will stop making these silly excuses."

Arrogant smirk. Mischievous eyes. "I am causing trouble for America and _only _America because he caught my interest. Let's just leave it at that."

He shifted his glance to the two nations who had yet to speak. "We still have two questions left. England…France…which of you wants to go first?"

"Well, since it looks like England is still thinking, I'll go next." Straightening in the chair. Crossing arms. "Something has been bothering me since the very beginning. How exactly did you discover our existence, Ace? Normal humans aren't aware of our identities. Though there are some exceptions, such as our bosses. But you gave no implications of having such connections with any nation in the world."

Smile given in fake courtesy. "Are you always this perceptive, France?"

France returned the gesture. "When you live as long as I have, you learn to notice even the smallest things."

"Perhaps there is some truth in your words. Yes, it _is_ true that the average human cannot discern between you nations and the rest of the population. However, I had certain _clues_ that helped me." A soft chuckle. "And it is just as you say, France. If you live long enough, you tend to pick up the little details and piece them together to form the whole picture."

It was a subtle suggestion, but one that required serious contemplation. From what they gathered from this answer, every single nation confirmed that they weren't dealing with a normal human. If he was human at all. No, he seemed more like a demon wearing the skin of a human. A deceptive monster bent on bringing America's demise. And though he implied the longevity of his life far exceeded the human lifespan, he kept his actual age out of their reach.

Just what was this devil hiding behind his smile?

"And last but certainly not least, we have England's question to consider. So, what would you like to ask? So far, you know that my name is Ace. That I am keeping America under the Pentagon. That I have the power to manipulate the environment for my purposes. That everything I do is for the sake of my Master. That I chose to harass America because he caught my attention. And that I know of your existences because of perception and experience."

"We also know that you're a two-faced bastard with serious issues involving your sanity."

No attempt to refute the comment. "I am sure you have heard the saying 'we are all mad here'?"

"You should crawl back down the rabbit hole and stay in your Wonderland. We don't want to have any part in your sick fantasies."

"Oh, but you are already caught in the threads of fate, every single one of you. Struggling for freedom will only tighten the bindings."

Emerald eyes hardened. The look he gave Ace would have caused any other being to tremble from the pure hatred, the darkening aura.

"Are you going to kill America?"

Ace's eyes widened, momentarily taken aback. However, he immediately let out a laugh while his body trembled as he tried to control himself, as his eyes shut in mirth.

"Oh England, out of all the questions, I love yours the most. So blunt…" Continued chuckling that caused the viewers to stare with surprise. Except England, who didn't stop glaring at the madman.

"Talk about catching me off guard. Well, I will be frank, England. _I do not know_. Can a nation be killed in the first place? Oh sure, nations can fall, but there are always remnants left behind in their place."

Purple eyes landing on Germany and Italy.

"And many times, the fallen nation simply loses power, not their existence."

Purple eyes lingering over England for a few seconds before regarding the entire group.

"But what is death? Is it not the complete disappearance of an entity? No second chance? Unable to return in another form? Death is expected in humans, but nations? If there is one thing I have learned, it is this: nations...countries…these hold onto their lives with stubborn determination. So, is there any method of stopping the continuance of nation? What does it take to completely wipe out a nation?"

Ace stood up from his seat and went behind America. Hands falling onto slack shoulders. Moving slowly inward. Wrapping around the pale neck. Smile growing. Twisted enjoyment dancing in those eyes. Those dark, poisonous irises.

"Am I going to kill America?"

The atmosphere in the meeting room became intense as each nation watched with full attention. As they waited for the next move. Expressions ranged from utter rage to cool indifference. But every one of them was in fight-or-flight mode as the adrenaline rushed through their body. There wasn't much they could do since they were too far away from the actual location on the other side of the screen, yet they remained alert as Ace began to move.

Fingers tightening against skin. Pushing against the sides of the neck. Closing the trachea.

Then, the threatening gesture disappeared faster than it occurred. Ace simply released his hold, spreading his arms out in front.

"That question will be addressed in the final act. Thank you, gentlemen, for participating in this Q and A session! I hope I provided enough drama for your liking. And though I would like to continue…" Fingers gripping the disheveled hair. Pulling the head up for the nations to get a full view. "It looks like our star is finally awake."

Bleary eyes stared at them, unable to discern the situation at hand. Breathing became labored, as if it was painful to perform the simple task of filling lungs with air. Hard as it is to believe, it would have been better if America remained unconscious. Less aware of the pain, the hurt. But, slowly, his vision began to clear. And a hint of surprise came through his agonized expression as he returned the nations' stares.

"Did you have a nice sleep, America? Your _friends_ have been waiting for the performance, but you could not even stay awake to greet them."

Whether from defiance or simply lack of strength, America kept quiet. Instead, his eyes moved across the room until he identified each of the nations present. Some continued to watch. Others broke the exchange because they were unable to look into the sapphires that were darkened with pain, hopelessness. None could accept this change from the normally shining, rebellious, arrogant America. Even when he was dealing with his declining economy, he didn't have this look of surrender. This look of defeat.

During this exchange, Ace took the time to move around the furniture, causing rough scrapings as the legs of the table slid across the rocky ground. He continued to work until only he and America was seen through the camera, though he allowed the nation to remain seated. Not that America could have stood on his feet. He looked like he could barely stay on the chair. Once everything else was cleared, Ace walked over and leaned his arm against the side of the chair. Facing his victim.

"You know, we were just talking about you…well your death to be exact. What do you make of that? Do you think it's possible for you to die?"

Still no response. America didn't even bother to look up. His attention focused on his fellow nations.

"Truthfully, it seems unlikely that you will disappear. You still have your people and your lands to keep you alive. But what would happen if you lose all that?" Hateful smirk. Mouth moving closer to his ear. "Would 'America' still exist without the foundation?"

Weight of the words crushing his spirit. Pushing down his already drowning soul.

_So tired._

"America! Get a hold of yourself!" Hands slamming on the table, refusing to let Ace continue. "You can't let this bastard kill you! You're better than that!"

_England…_

"America, you've proved your strength before, so don't let it be any different this time!"

_France…_

"Brother, you never let others push you around! Kick that guy's ass!"

_Canada…_

"Where is the America I faced during the Cold War? He didn't give up this easily you know."

_Russia…_

"Don't lose to that jerk!"

_Italy…_

"That's right. Don't let everything you've built go to waste."

_Germany…_

"America, you always told me that you are a hero. You have also told me that the hero always beats the villain."

_Japan…_

"Exactly! You're a hero, right? Well Ace is the bad guy you have to beat!"

Said man smirked before ruffling America's hair. "Well what do you know? Looks like they are actually supporting you. And do you have anything to say, _Mr. Hero_?"

_You guys…_

Tears flowed down his face as their words, their shouts of encouragement, replayed in his mind. He was grateful. Truly he was. Yet…

A weak smile shining through the tears. A smile that held both joy and sorrow. Voice barely above a whisper.

"Thanks. But I don't think I'm fit to be a hero."

Hollow. Broken. But still appreciating their effort. They were stunned by his response, by the irreversible change brought onto the former superpower.

And Ace merely scoffed at the gaping nations. "Not even a hero can get out of this situation. My previous question still stands, gentlemen."

Eyes glinting with malice. Grin becoming predatorial.

"Would America still exist without his people? Without his fertile lands? Imagine the country being consumed by every single nuclear weapon it possesses. What would the outcome be?" A cruel chuckle. "Well, in just a few minutes we will get our answer."

"Bloody son of a bitch! You can't just launch all the nukes at once!"

"Do not underestimate me, England. I _can_. And I _will_." Pupils constricted, morphing into slits. Lips twisting into a crazed grin. "The final act will commence without interruption. So sit back. And enjoy the show."

America's throat was already raw from his previous outcries. But when he felt the impact, when he felt his cities disintegrate, when he felt his people getting wipe out, screams tore through his vocal cords. Blood leaking from his mouth as the vibrations ripped his larynx.

Convulsions overtook his body. Control over his muscles no longer present. His lands suffering from the endless explosions. The entire geography shifting because of the destruction. A heavy thud, body falling on the ground. Hands grasping disheveled hair, desperately attempting to quell the pounding, the hammering, the pressure.

Soul torn apart. Each loss of life another crack in the already shattering heart. Lucky ones didn't even recognize their deaths. Unlucky ones feeling the intense heat of the roaring flames that destroyed indiscriminately.

Vague, familiar voices in the background, but never really reaching. Never breaking through the insane laughter that echoed around him. Mocking sound the complete antithesis to his howls of agony.

No longer holding an identity. Losing self-awareness. Pain too excruciating. Pain the only thing that was left. The last thing remembered before the soul was engulfed by the waiting darkness. A sweet oblivion that took everything.

And all they could do was watch him fall. The screams fled in an instant so only Ace's laugh came through the speakers.

He too noticed the fall, but continued to laugh until his voice cracked, until his body shook from his coughing. Perhaps even aware that his own sanity was in pieces, his grip on his mind set loose. Once he regained control, Ace moved back and positioned the camera onto the still form of America to show them the extent of the damage.

Traces of blood still dripping from the mouth. Eyes closed as if in a deep slumber. Hands holding the head. Fingers entwined in the strands of hair. Body twisted into fetal position.

"Take a good look, for you have just witnessed the death of a nation. Devoid of everything that defined his existence, there should be no doubt that the personification should also disappear." Camera turned back to show only himself.

Slit eyes. Twisted smile. "But you have only yourselves to blame. You who also possess these weapons. You who also rely so heavily on technology. Every single one of you would have fallen just as easily. _Never _forget that."

A single hand covering the face. And when removed, a drastic change in appearance. Eyes reverted to normal. Smile turned courteous. "Alas, this brings our show to an end. Such a pity, but I have other business to attend."

A quick wave. "It was short, but it was fun. One day I hope to meet each and every one of you personally, but who knows when that will ever happen. Until then, take care of yourselves."

And in a single instant, the communication ceased, and Ace excused himself from their lives. Leaving the same way he entered: abruptly, without warning. And the nations were left staring at the empty screen.

Yet, the only image they saw was America's fallen body. The only sound they heard was the never-ending laughter of an insane man.


	8. Epilogue

The cool breeze was a refreshing welcome, especially after spending hours in that room. He was getting tired of these meetings, these worthless gatherings of the world nations. In the past few months, nothing had been accomplished, and frankly, he doubted that any real conclusions would be made.

_Oh but it's necessary_, they would cry, _to figure out what to do since the country known as "America" no longer exists._

Feet pausing their steps. Hands clenching into fists. Emotions held in check.

Memories threatened to overtake his mind, his heart aching from the resulting barrage. No matter how much time passed, he knew that the wounds left behind would not heal. After the last video, satellites were finally able to get pictures of America. They were expecting immense damage, but nothing prepared the G8 members for the truth.

Every city was destroyed. Entire buildings were missing at sites where the missiles actually landed. The rest of the landscape showed the destructive aftermath through crumbling infrastructures.

Every green life had been converted to unyielding sand. All vegetation was wiped out, and along with it the wildlife. The satellites didn't pick up movements anywhere in the desolate wasteland. Not surprising, since it was highly improbable that anything could survive the onslaught of more than three hundred nuclear weapons.

Nowhere to run. No vehicle to take them to safety. Even if the higher officials managed to get into their underground bunkers, it was only a matter of time before they succumb to the radiation poisoning.

He stared into the overcast sky. Watching clouds that were heavy with the soon to fall rain.

Yes, radiation. The sole reason no nation was willing to send anyone to check the damage firsthand. Entering that forsaken land would be sending them to hell. And no one wanted to take that risk.

There was a shocking revelation, though. The radiation didn't diffuse through the air like it normally does. Canada and Mexico served as evidence to this fact, for neither of them had a single trace within their countries. It was as if everything that happened in America stayed within the borders.

A mixed blessing for the adjacent lands.

But he knew that Canada was suffering all the same. The death of his brother had hit the young nation hard. Almost sent him careening off the edge of sanity. The only thing that stopped him was the cries for help from the refugees, those who had been out of the country during the fated three days. Vacation, business, military affairs. No matter the reason, there was a small number of Americans who were lucky enough to avoid death's call. Then again, maybe it wasn't so lucky, since many had lost their families.

And all had lost a place to call home.

Their cries reached Canada, who opened his country to the refugees. According to him, it was the least he could do for his deceased brother. A valiant choice for the sake of a memory.

The other nations never found out about the truth behind the unexplainable actions. How could the G8 members give an explanation when they too were uncertain about the entire event? Even if they wanted to reveal everything, there was no evidence to back their story.

They had learned that the first CD with the clip had disappeared without a trace. The file had also been deleted from their computers. The last two videos were live, and there was no time to record either of them. The only thing they could use was the tablet, but even that turned to be useless because it had stopped functioning. And all they were left with was a worthless conglomeration of electrical parts.

So they decided to keep quiet and feign ignorance while staying alert, watching for signs of the demon's return…

"Are you going to just stand there staring at the sky? You'll risk getting wet, England."

He slowly turned around, tired eyes resting on the other nation. "It doesn't matter, France. I'm used to the rain."

"Ah, you and your dreary, English weather. Come, let us find shelter before the heavens pour their tears onto the earth."

"I'm not going back in there."

"I don't want to either. I'm tired of hearing them talk in circles."

For that was all they did during the meetings. The nations had no idea how to proceed, how to deal with this loss. It was true that many had hated America, had wanted America to fall. But none imagined that America could be completely removed from this world. His death meant that there was a gaping hole left in the world's economy. A sudden break in international trade. They couldn't even enter the country to take advantage of the its resources.

No, this wasn't something that could be fixed with mere negotiations…

"The only thing we can do is move on."

"So true, England. We can't just sit around and sulk forever, can we?"

"No, we need to stay alert and learn from this disaster, so if we ever see that demon again…"

"We won't go down without a fight."

England nodded and swallowed thickly, desperate to steady his voice for his question. "Do you…do you think he's in a better place?"

France paused before giving a small smile. "I think he's getting along well, wherever he is. Though I'm sure he's annoying the people around him with his talks of hamburgers and heroes."

"Knowing that idiot, I wouldn't be surprised." Feet slowly moving away, shoulders still heavy. "France, I think I need some time alone."

"All right, but don't overdo it this time. I'm _not_ coming to pick up your drunk self this time."

"As if I wanted you to."

Still, he gave a grateful wave to the watching nation and wandered down the streets. Hoping to find reprise from the constant pain that lingered within his heart.

* * *

"Are you certain that you should be moving about so soon?"

Hint of worry in both voice and eyes.

All ignored, as attention was focused on the two nations below.

"Spare me the pity. I'm not so weak that I can't stand with my own strength."

"I only worry since we're so high up." He stepped off the ledge, feet landing on the cold roof. "We wouldn't want you falling to your death."

"As if I'd die from such a short fall." Nevertheless, moving back to safety. Eyes never leaving the scene on the ground. "So, these are the nations you mentioned…"

"Yes…surprising, are they not?"

"It looks like you've been causing a lot of mischief. That's very unlike you."

"What can I say? I've changed since you saw me last."

Sly smirk. "Does that mean I have to question your loyalty to me, too?"

Ace immediately dropped to the floor. Kneeling on his left knee. Bowing his head. Left arm hanging loosely. Right arm resting on his right knee. A position of submission.

"You need to do no such thing. I have sworn my loyalty, my life, to you on that fateful day. I will offer my services forever, my King."

He looked at the two nations a little longer before finally regarding the kneeling man and folding his arms. Navy blue trench coat rippling as he stepped back slightly. Head tilting up as he looked down with unreadable eyes.

"Will you follow me, knowing that my path will involve even more death and pain in this world?"

"I will never take back my words, not even if death comes to claim this unworthy soul. I only ask that you would keep me at your side, like you have done in the past."

"I have to say that I pity any and all who will get caught in my plans. The nations of this world will soon wish to choose hell over what is to come." A hint of madness glinting in his eyes. "Even _you_ might wish to leave while you still can."

"If my Master is unsatisfied with me, then I will remove myself from your presence."

"…" Eyes averting to the side. A sigh of resignation. "Enough, rise from the ground. You know as well as I do that I can't lose you." He gave an approving smirk to his eternal servant and turned his attention back to the nations. "Never betray me, my ace."

Standing back up, Ace also watched England walking away from France. Before returning the smirk with a genuine smile.

"It will be as you command, my King."

* * *

**A/N: **Now that we've come to the end, a couple of notes about this story.

1. I wrote this about a year ago and changed a few parts before I uploaded. Hence the occasional discrepancies of writing styles (maybe...)

2. The story's original purpose was to make America suffer (I torture my favorite characters...yes I know I'm sadistic [ㅎㅈㅎ]). Also, I wanted to test my angst writing, and I can't say whether I'm satisfied or not...Maybe I should've been more horrible.

3. Another purpose of the story was to unleash my wild child. Always wanted to create a character that would spread chaos and destruction (in other words, write a character that people will hate...without the character being a female in a romantic relationship with her favorite character...I'll let you guess how I feel about Mary Sues)

4. This seemingly plotless story is actually connected to another idea I've had for a long time (who knew?), but have yet to finish writing. I've thrown a couple of hints within the chapters that suggest the theme (hope it wasn't too hard). I'm still deciding whether I want to write it out, and this story was a sort of test run to gauge the interest level. But as is, this story (APR) is complete.

**fullmoonwolf950**; **ItalyGirl58**; **LunaWing118**; **animefairi**; **love live life**; **Warrior Chickenz**; **hungarysfryingpan**; **Lady Ri of Cherith**; **machete****cat**; **Arisu Tsuranu**; **DestinyBlade** : you guys are awesome. Your reviews definitely motivated me to update faster than I usually do. Thanks for leaving feedback.

To the subscribers and favoriters (is that a word?): Thanks for your support.

That said, I will still accept comments, feedback, constructive criticisms, etc. Also, I'll give a sort of sneak peak of what could be written. Let me know what you think about my potential story. Until then~

* * *

Russia could only stare at the one sitting in the armchair.

At the one who should not be here.

The events from the past year were still in his mind. He remembered how each of the G8 members had chosen to move on. So how was he supposed to respond to those sapphire eyes in front of him?

The metal pipe slipped from his hand and dropped to the ground as the two stared at each other. Finally, Russia managed to find his voice.

"A...America?"

"Hello, Russia."

* * *

_"One person's craziness is another person's reality."_

_ -Tim Burton  
_


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